


Of lips and hidden desires

by Hotaru_Tomoe, RossKL



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Sherlock, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru_Tomoe/pseuds/Hotaru_Tomoe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RossKL/pseuds/RossKL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you like my lips, Jawn? - Sherlock asks out of the blue - Do you like imagine my lips doing dirty things to you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of lips and hidden desires

**Author's Note:**

> Role inspired by [this](http://julieftws.tumblr.com/post/32783896334/not-even-sorry-these-are-close-to-real-size) Tumblr post. God bless Tumblr.  
> Plain text by RossKL, italic by Hotaru_Tomoe. We are Italian, English is not our first language, so sorry for any mistakes/mispelling.  
> 

_"Do you like my lips, Jawn? - Sherlock asks out of the blue - Do you like imagine my lips doing dirty things to you?"_  
  
"Sherlock what are you saying? Are you okay?"  
  
 _"Don't, John. Don't lie to me, you're a terrible liar. Or are you saying you never imagine my lips wrapped around your cock?"_  
  
"Sherlock, what -- No! Never! Christ, you do need to sleep. You're awake for too long now, just go to bed. We can talk better tomorr-- Just go!"  
  
 _"All right then. When you'll finish to cope with your ridiculous sexual identity crisis, I'll be in my room, and my lips and mouth will be there for you, too._  
 _Oh, and the next time I suggest you to wear larger trousers. These ones should be really uncomforable, by now."_  
  
"I don't have a "ridicolous sexual identity crisis"!" he cries out, watching his friend-maybe-something-more go towards his bedroom. He's really feeling rather uncomfortable. "It can't be" he mutteres.  
He thinks about Sherlock's mouth for a second. The trousers go tighter. "Fuck". He stumbles towards Sherlock's bedroom, and when he's in front of the door, he stops himself. "What the hell am I doing?" is all he can think about.  
  
 _He stays still for long in front of the door and he's about to come back to his room when he hears Sherlock muttering "For God's sake" and then the door opens wild and John finds those lips - those fucking, plump, impossibly beautiful lips - a few inches from his._  
 _Jesus Christ._  
 _"So, John?"_  
 _He's doing it on purpose, that bastard, to open his mouth so much while pronuncing the "O"._  
 _"To hell with it! This is your fault, Sherlock, just your fault." John roars, before pushing him back into the room, eyes never leaving his lips._  
  
He pulles Sherlock close, so close he can feel the brush of their lips.  
"I know it's my fault, John. And I don't give a f--"  
"Don't. Don't say that word." He knows he's about to burst at any moment.  
And so does Sherlock.  
"What word, John?". Their lips brushes again. John knows he can't bear it any longer, but Sherlock keeps going. "Fuck?"  
  
 _And this is where the hell breaks loose. John grabs Sherlock by the nape, clenching his curly hair so hard to steal a painful moan from his friend, then crashes his lips to Sherlock's._  
 _Oh god, he's dead and this is heaven. He has never tasted anything so soft and velvety and he could spend the rest of his life - that will be very short, as is going to die of a heart attack - kissing those lips._ _But suddenly Sherlock escapes its grasp._  
 _Dazed, for a brief moment John thinks that the detective has evaporated into the air, before realizing that he slipped on his knees in front of him and now he's watching him, the blue-gray eyes that keep him pinned against the wall._  
  
John realizes with a gasp what they're about to do, and suddently a thrill of expectation shakes him. He's fully hard now.  
"Sherlock" he whispers, clenching Sherlock's curly hair in his hands.  
He feels Sherlock's hands grasp his trousers, and he begins to hear nothing but his heartbeat.  
Then he feels his trousers open, and he shivers. "Sherlock".  
"John". God, his voice. So deep, so low... He holds his head in his hands, and Sherlock moans. The sound is pretty filthy.  
God, he can't wait anymore. He pulls Sherlock closer, but he doesn't move. He look up at him with a grin: he was waiting this moment.  
Sherlock doesn't move. That grin always on his face.  
"What would you like me to do?"  
  
 _"You bastard cockteaser."_  
 _"Dirty talk will not get you anywhere, for the moment. - he chuckles and then grins evily - Just tell me what you want me to do to you with my mouth, Jawn."_  
 _No, this is too much. Too much embarrassing, too much obscene to give voice to the dirty thoughts that crows his mind. But Sherlock doesn't leave him other alternative but to retire in his room and have a sad, lonely wank._  
 _"What do you want from my lips, Jawn?" Sherlock repeats, wetting them with saliva._  
 _"I want - his voice is so hoarse that's unrecognizable to his own ears - I want you to suck me off so hard that I can no longer see straight."_  
  
Suddently Sherlock does what he's just said. He almost rips off his pants and frees his own erection.  
"All you needed to do was asking, John". Deep, before he begins to lick his shaft. Once, twice, thrice. Nothing more.  
"But you waited so much, I can't make you things that easy."  
  
 _"You'll be the death of me, Sherlock Holmes." John exhales breathless._  
 _In other circumstances, the doctor probably would have said to that overgrown, nasty child to piss off. But not now, not after the taste of that hot tongue on his skin._  
 _It's a bit humiliating, but he's willing to do everything that Sherlock wants. Anything to get his lips back around his throbbing cock. After all, he killed a man for him, what could be worse?_  
 _"What do you want?" he spits out._  
 _"Giving up so easily, John? I thought you were opposed greater resistance - he says teasingly, nuzzling his nose against his firm thigh - this is like admitting that you want a long, long time and that you reached the limit."_  
 _Those steel eyes pierce him, waiting for his response._  
  
"Shit", he thinks. He was really willing to do whatever Sherlock wants. Really. But, a confession? Seriously?  
And now? How would he escape from that? And most of all, how would it finish in that case? A lonely wank is no longer an option. It wasn't before, it's really not at the moment. Not after those lips caressing his shaft just a minute ago - God, the very thought is enough to make him shiver and go mad. He just need him. Now. Shit.  
"You don't really need to hear the answer, Sherlock. You can deduce it, can't you?". John thinks this is the best way to avoid that unsaid question.  
But Sherlock doesn't move. He just looks up at him, an evil grin on his face. "And this is where you're wrong, love" he whispers, and his breath tickles his pulsing erection. "I really do need to hear it. From your mouth. This, John, or you can leave".  
With a sigh, John's voice's shattered with desire between the two of them. "Fine. I want you, Sherlock. I've wanted you for so long, so long." His voice go deeper and deeper, it can't be his, now. "I've wanted you so badly, and I've wanked thinking about you so many times I lost count. And yes, that fucking lips of yours have made me insane. I want them, Sherlock. I want them now, I want you now. _Now_ " he groans.  
  
 _If John was expecting a caustic remark or more teasing, he was wrong._  
 _Sherlock rests his lips on his trembling thigh and murmurs, almost with devotion "Yes, John. My John." Moving up, he licks a trail along the hipbone "Only mine." and then, without warning, he engulfs his erection almost entirely._  
 _The sudden wet heat sends a shiver down the spine of John and his knees give way for a moment._  
 _"Je-Jesus Christ!" He bites hard a finger to prevent himself from screaming and waking up their landlady._  
 _Sherlock hollows his cheeks, sucking hard on him and John's vision becomes foggy... it can't be: Sherlock has barely begun and he may already come like an inexperienced, clumsy boy._  
 _"S-Sherlock!" he tries to warn him and his partner understands, bobbing his head more gently, just stroking his hardness with his lips._  
 _John the brushes his hair from his forehead to admire that gorgeous, soft mouth wrapped around his cock. The sight is as great as the feeling._  
 _"Yes .. hmmm ... this is sweet ... yes - GOD - right there!" he shouts, when Sherlock's tongue laps a particularly sensitive point of his shaft._  
 _Sherlock pulls back slowly, just teasing the glans for long, maddening minutes and then he completely releases John's cock, now glistening with saliva. John growls his disappointment at the absence of Sherlock's mouth. "Do not - do not stop, please." he breathes with shaking voice._  
 _The smirk is back ... god only knows what else there's into the gigantic brain of Sherlock. His question almost caused him an aneurysm "Do you want to come down my throat, John?"_  
  
John can picture it in his head: it'd be all so perfect. That mouth wrapped around his member is the most beautiful imagine he can bring to memory, even though he'd thought about being in him more times. It'd seem very selfish, but John can't imagine somewhat else.  
"Why not? I love that mouth. It's the most beautiful one I've ever seen. And I saw a lot of mouth. It's the most wonderful part of your body" he exhales.  
Sherlock seems a bit surprised, and then he answers: "Well, perhaps you've never seen me naked".  
  
 _"I did." John says, remembering their visit to Buckingham Palace. "Well, not entirely." he adds with a hint of regret. The sight of Sherlock's infinite muscular back was wonderful, not to mention the glimpse of his round buttocks, but in his most secret night fantasies John had often desired to see Sherlock completely and gloriously naked._  
 _"Want to see some more?" Sherlock asks, reading his mind._  
 _"Oh god, yes." John exhales._  
 _Sherlock stands up and starts to undress himself methodically, unbuttoning slowly, oh so slowly, his silk shirt, revealing inch by inch his alabaster skin, dotted with small moles that, John bets, should be delicious under his tongue._  
 _Sherlock isn't just stripping, he's doing a fucking show and John stares at him, hypnotized, following the movement of the long fingers that open the button of his trousers and then the zip. He keeps on looking, gasping, and Sherlock gets rid of his pants, revealing his long, hard cock._  
 _Only then John realizes that he's still almost fully clothed and that, maybe, it would be nice to get rid of clothes. He moves his hands to the buttons of his shirt, but his partner's voice stops him "Don't."_  
 _"But I thought ..."_  
 _Sherlock approaches him with feline grace "You listen but you don't hear." he touches the shell of the ear of John with his lips "What did I just say?"_  
 _John swallows "That I am yours."_  
 _"Exactly. Mine to touch, mine to suck off, mine to undress." he roars, devouring the sensitive skin just below the ear, while stripping him quickly and efficently._  
  
"Dear God" John mutters, seeing how his flatmate is able to undress. He takes off all of his clothes, one at the time, but he doesn't touch him. John wonders if he's doing it on purpose.  
When he's completely naked, Sherlock takes his time to look at him with famelic eyes. That sight on his face makes John feels like he's under microscope, but in a pleasent way.  
All John wants is to feel Sherlock, every inch of him. He grabs his head and pulls him closer until their lips brushes. "I want you, Sherlock".  
"My John..." is all he hears in reply.  
And this is how John feels at the moment: he feels Sherlock's, he feels better than ever.  
And it's just all fine.  
The friction of their bodies pressed together is nearly umbearable. They want more, more than just hands all over each other's body, more than lips on each other's skin, more than foreheads pressed together, more than breathes that become one breath.  
John is alright, more than alright, and Sherlock can feel it. And he's happy to see his friend turning into something more than just a friend.  
They're happy now, and nothing in the world can rip them apart.  
  
 _Impulsively, John grabs Sherlock ass and drags him across the room to the bed. Sherlock is thin but heavy and clings on him as if he wanted to merge with him. "So, where were we?" Sherlock mutters on his skin, biting down hard on his shoulder._  
 _"Fuck!" John hisses._  
 _"Maybe later." Sherlock chuckles and then snakes down toward his groin. "Ah, that's where I was." He grabs John's cock firmly with one hand and goes down on him again, hungry and resolute._  
 _John knows that it will not last long, it's all too intense: the sensation of wet, hot mouth, that tongue doing wonderful things to him and, above all, the feeling of being the object of such devotion from Sherlock, the brilliant, crazy genius._  
 _"Sherlock ... my Sherlock." he breathes heavily. It wants to be a question and his partner hums happily around him._  
 _That's definitely a yes: he belongs to Sherlock as Sherlock belongs to him._  
 _Another swirl of that devilish tongue on his glans and John is almost undone. He fumbles with his arms toward Sherlock to warn him, but his partner grabs his balls, cupping them in his sweaty hand and squeezing them slightly and John is coming so hard that he fears he might pass out._  
  
Sherlock swallows every drop of John with devotion and then John grabs him and pulls him towards his lips. It's all still blur for John, and with semi-conscious he kisses his friend, John's taste still into Sherlock's mouth. It's their taste now, and both of them likes it. Even John.  
After a quite long time, he returns aware of the world. Sherlock is working hard with his own hand on his length, and John feels jealous of it almost immediately. He takes Sherlock's hands in his, and he sinks down toward the detective's erection. He looks up at him, glancing his wide eyes, and he begins to kiss that pulsing flesh. It's something new: John's never done something like this, but he finds it natural, like he's born to do this.  
He begins to lick the glans with his entire tongue, and when he sees Sherlock moving desperately under his body, he knows he's doing it fine. He frees Sherlock's hands and his hands help him in what he's doing. After a while, Sherlock starts to moan, hissing desperately. "John, please".  
At this, John takes in his own mouth all he can manage, starts to use his tongue in sync with his hands.  
A few minutes of moans and groans and almost cries, and Sherlock comes too, hard.  
It's the first time someone who counts so much in his life makes him come, and they both know. They know.  
John waits for Sherlock.  
  
 _Sherlock is silent for so long, eyes closing, face down on the pillow, breath slowing down, that John thinks that he has fallen asleep._  
 _Cautiously he sits on the bed: what to do now? He doesn't know if he loves post coital cuddles or if Sherlock would be happy with John staying in his bed for the night. John would like. Right now he wants nothing more than lie down, keep Sherlock's in his arms and spend the whole night stroking those beautiful lips and those unruly curls, but probably this is too much un-sherlockian._  
 _He lets out a heavy sigh and Sherlock opens his eyes, looking at him almost with symphaty._  
 _"What?"_  
 _"You really are an idiot, John Watson. Come under the covers or you'll freeeze to death."_  
 _John chuckles and sneaks close to Sherlock. "So bossy."_  
 _"Deal with it."_  
 _"Already done, from a long time." John hugged him, resting her head between his shoulder blades. He'll not insult the Sherlock's cleverness asking him how he knew he was attracted to him, he's just happy for the turn that took his life, happy as he never has been._  
 _"John?"_  
 _"Mmh?" the former soldier is already on the edge of sleep._  
 _"I like your lips, too. And your mouth."_  
 _"Thank you."_  
 _"And John?"_  
 _"What?" he tries to sound a bit exasperated. God, that was one of the best orgasm of his life and now he's so bloody tired._  
 _"I'm serious."_  
 _" 'bout what?"_  
 _".... everything."_  
 _"Good. Me too." he means it and he knowthat Sherlock means it, too, so it's all fine._ _He places a final kiss on the sweaty skin and he falls asleep._  
  
Sherlock watches John for almost an hour. He thinks about what they'd done, and smiles now and then. His mind is blessing calm, and he can feel the sensation of no thinking for once in his life.  
It's weird, but he likes it.  
He just stares his sleeping friend, his tonic body pressed against his, and this sensation has the power to relax the detective's mind and body.  
He knows they'll talk of this tomorrow. He knows John won't escape, not after tonight.  
All he has to do now is stay there until the sleep comes.


End file.
